Pour
Title: Pour
Pairing: None
Member: Chanyeol
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nothing in particular triggers it. Chanyeol just wants to masturbate.
Notes: hi i have writer's block laksjgksfhj
--
It’s a slow, unhurried movement, his wrist rotating a bit so his fingers glide underneath his shirt, tracing goosebumps across the lines of his stomach. The digits trail lower, catching on the button of his jeans and he feels his breath hitch a bit, eyes closing. The button is cold, the steel still holding some of the iciness from the air outside on his walk home. The zipper is just as cold as he pulls it down, tooth by tooth, undoing his pants totally before letting his fingers slide along the skin above the waistband of his underwear. His hips twitch a bit into the touch and he feels himself getting harder from the fleeting touches, his lashes fluttering a bit as he swallows thickly.
Nothing in particular triggers it. Chanyeol just wants to masturbate.
The heel of his palm slides down the front of his exposed underwear, applying heavy pressure to his half-hard cock. His hips jerk upwards at the contact and he lets out a low grunt, pressing his head back into the pillows. He rubs through the fabric slowly, catching the material with his fingers and dragging it over his sensitive skin; a low breath escapes his lips and he spreads his legs a bit, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. Wetting his lips and sucking the lower one between his teeth, Chanyeol’s eyes hood as he reaches with his free hand to grab another pillow, stacking it atop the one he’s resting on, giving him a bit of an elevated angle so he can see what he’s doing.
The tent in his underwear makes him hum a bit, his thumb pressing along the shaft as the blood finally all collects and stiffens his cock completely. Up, down, the slow drag of the cotton against his dick makes his legs tremble a bit, his knees bending slightly as his feet push into the mattress. A little roll, starting from his tucked chin, moving to the arch of his spine, and ending at his hips makes his cock throb a bit, a little huff leaving his lips. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer-briefs he tugs them down, not bothering to do it properly. The fabric is caught on the head of his dick and there’s a wet spot seeping through the blue, darkening it and staining it.
“A-ah…” he starts rubbing his underwear side to side, smearing the precum and rubbing against the sensitive flesh. He does that for a few moments before his cock finally springs free, the elastic of his underwear snapping against his pelvis as one of his thumbs looses its grip. The sting elicits a whimper and his lips part, jaw dropping a bit to try and get a bit more air into his lungs. His underwear doesn’t get very far down his legs, barely to mid-thigh, before he drags blunt nails back upwards towards his hip bones, nails digging into the skin and leaving crescent-shaped marks. He digs, presses deep until he’s positive he’ll either bleed or bruise, and then relents the pressure, smoothing his warm palms over the abused flesh with a shiver. His nails scrape over the v of his pelvis, before his fingers finally come into contact with the base of his cock.
He doesn’t want to stroke, not yet. He can’t give in so soon. His fingers dive lower, cupping his balls and he lets out a little noise because his jeans are around his knees and he can’t spread them wide enough to get to where he wants. So he settles, the bit of frustration adding fuel to the fire as he gives himself a squeeze. He feels the pleasure all the way in the tips of his toes, the sensation steady and smooth as it floats up his legs, past his hips, into his chest and finally his brain, his head getting a bit light.
Another squeeze, tighter this time, and he gasps. He drags his index finger upwards, applying more pressure than is probably sane, before he circles it and his thumb around the base of his cock. Some precum drools from the tip and leaks down onto his abdomen, a sticky string the only connection between the two. Chanyeol breaks the string with his free hand, finger winding around the pearly thread and smearing it over the flesh of his cock. The circle of his thumb and forefinger squeeze and start jerking in slow, shallow motions, barely moving more than an inch upwards. It’s torture.
He moves a hand under his shirt, palm sliding over one of his nipples. It passes over once, and on the drag back Chanyeol’s nails scrape, catching on the flesh and making him let out a little whimper. Repeating this a few time his hips start to buck into his fingers; he grips with all five digits now, stroking halfway up his cock, squeezing as he pauses, trying to procure more of that sweet pearly liquid. Only a little bit comes and he lets out a slightly frustrated huff, before he starts a steady rhythm of jerking his cock, half up, all the way down, twist of the wrist, back up again. Heat slowly spreads throughout his body and ah, he won’t last long like this, not when its been pent up for so long, not when he hasn’t felt the touch of someone else-
His hand slips and he loses his grip, his cock slapping against his stomach with a rather wet, pleasant sound. Moaning, Chanyeol picks it up again and presses it in the opposite direction as far as it’ll go, before releasing it once more to get the precious sound of skin slapping on skin. He wonders what it’d be like to have someone else’s hands on him; his experience is narrowed to one person, and while that one person is a virtuous lover, Chanyeol can’t help but be curious. Who would fuck him gently? Who would fuck him relentlessly? Who would gently cradle him into the bed, and who would bend him over a table?
His thoughts shift once again, as he starts fisting his cock tightly, quickly. Who could he bend over? Who could he tangle his fingers in their hair, hold them upright while he rails into them from behind? Who could he have complete control over - who could he press into the mattress, who could he fold in half?
Panting, his balls tighten in a warning of impending release, heat coiling in his lower stomach. His legs bend a little more and he wishes he would have stripped totally naked, the heat of his clothes almost suffocating. His other hand comes out from his shirt and he reaches to squeeze and stroke his balls as the pace of his jerking hand increases, the edges of his already glassy vision blurring just a bit more, before he closes his eyes. Just a bit more, just a little bit more, he can taste his orgasm on his tongue, it’s tingling his taste buds-
He imagines someone catching him in this dirty act, walking into the door or calling him on the phone, and that’s all it takes to trigger release. He squeezes his cock on the upwards stroke just as ropes of cum start spilling out of it, hot and sticky on his abdomen as he thrusts through the high, milking his cock dry before he collapses against the bed. The cum pools in the lines of his abs, in the dip of his bellybutton and slide off the curve of his hips, but he can’t be too bothered to care. He can wash.
His brain, however, will never settle those fleeting thoughts.
web counter
Pairing: None
Member: Chanyeol
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nothing in particular triggers it. Chanyeol just wants to masturbate.
Notes: hi i have writer's block laksjgksfhj
--
It’s a slow, unhurried movement, his wrist rotating a bit so his fingers glide underneath his shirt, tracing goosebumps across the lines of his stomach. The digits trail lower, catching on the button of his jeans and he feels his breath hitch a bit, eyes closing. The button is cold, the steel still holding some of the iciness from the air outside on his walk home. The zipper is just as cold as he pulls it down, tooth by tooth, undoing his pants totally before letting his fingers slide along the skin above the waistband of his underwear. His hips twitch a bit into the touch and he feels himself getting harder from the fleeting touches, his lashes fluttering a bit as he swallows thickly.
Nothing in particular triggers it. Chanyeol just wants to masturbate.
The heel of his palm slides down the front of his exposed underwear, applying heavy pressure to his half-hard cock. His hips jerk upwards at the contact and he lets out a low grunt, pressing his head back into the pillows. He rubs through the fabric slowly, catching the material with his fingers and dragging it over his sensitive skin; a low breath escapes his lips and he spreads his legs a bit, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. Wetting his lips and sucking the lower one between his teeth, Chanyeol’s eyes hood as he reaches with his free hand to grab another pillow, stacking it atop the one he’s resting on, giving him a bit of an elevated angle so he can see what he’s doing.
The tent in his underwear makes him hum a bit, his thumb pressing along the shaft as the blood finally all collects and stiffens his cock completely. Up, down, the slow drag of the cotton against his dick makes his legs tremble a bit, his knees bending slightly as his feet push into the mattress. A little roll, starting from his tucked chin, moving to the arch of his spine, and ending at his hips makes his cock throb a bit, a little huff leaving his lips. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer-briefs he tugs them down, not bothering to do it properly. The fabric is caught on the head of his dick and there’s a wet spot seeping through the blue, darkening it and staining it.
“A-ah…” he starts rubbing his underwear side to side, smearing the precum and rubbing against the sensitive flesh. He does that for a few moments before his cock finally springs free, the elastic of his underwear snapping against his pelvis as one of his thumbs looses its grip. The sting elicits a whimper and his lips part, jaw dropping a bit to try and get a bit more air into his lungs. His underwear doesn’t get very far down his legs, barely to mid-thigh, before he drags blunt nails back upwards towards his hip bones, nails digging into the skin and leaving crescent-shaped marks. He digs, presses deep until he’s positive he’ll either bleed or bruise, and then relents the pressure, smoothing his warm palms over the abused flesh with a shiver. His nails scrape over the v of his pelvis, before his fingers finally come into contact with the base of his cock.
He doesn’t want to stroke, not yet. He can’t give in so soon. His fingers dive lower, cupping his balls and he lets out a little noise because his jeans are around his knees and he can’t spread them wide enough to get to where he wants. So he settles, the bit of frustration adding fuel to the fire as he gives himself a squeeze. He feels the pleasure all the way in the tips of his toes, the sensation steady and smooth as it floats up his legs, past his hips, into his chest and finally his brain, his head getting a bit light.
Another squeeze, tighter this time, and he gasps. He drags his index finger upwards, applying more pressure than is probably sane, before he circles it and his thumb around the base of his cock. Some precum drools from the tip and leaks down onto his abdomen, a sticky string the only connection between the two. Chanyeol breaks the string with his free hand, finger winding around the pearly thread and smearing it over the flesh of his cock. The circle of his thumb and forefinger squeeze and start jerking in slow, shallow motions, barely moving more than an inch upwards. It’s torture.
He moves a hand under his shirt, palm sliding over one of his nipples. It passes over once, and on the drag back Chanyeol’s nails scrape, catching on the flesh and making him let out a little whimper. Repeating this a few time his hips start to buck into his fingers; he grips with all five digits now, stroking halfway up his cock, squeezing as he pauses, trying to procure more of that sweet pearly liquid. Only a little bit comes and he lets out a slightly frustrated huff, before he starts a steady rhythm of jerking his cock, half up, all the way down, twist of the wrist, back up again. Heat slowly spreads throughout his body and ah, he won’t last long like this, not when its been pent up for so long, not when he hasn’t felt the touch of someone else-
His hand slips and he loses his grip, his cock slapping against his stomach with a rather wet, pleasant sound. Moaning, Chanyeol picks it up again and presses it in the opposite direction as far as it’ll go, before releasing it once more to get the precious sound of skin slapping on skin. He wonders what it’d be like to have someone else’s hands on him; his experience is narrowed to one person, and while that one person is a virtuous lover, Chanyeol can’t help but be curious. Who would fuck him gently? Who would fuck him relentlessly? Who would gently cradle him into the bed, and who would bend him over a table?
His thoughts shift once again, as he starts fisting his cock tightly, quickly. Who could he bend over? Who could he tangle his fingers in their hair, hold them upright while he rails into them from behind? Who could he have complete control over - who could he press into the mattress, who could he fold in half?
Panting, his balls tighten in a warning of impending release, heat coiling in his lower stomach. His legs bend a little more and he wishes he would have stripped totally naked, the heat of his clothes almost suffocating. His other hand comes out from his shirt and he reaches to squeeze and stroke his balls as the pace of his jerking hand increases, the edges of his already glassy vision blurring just a bit more, before he closes his eyes. Just a bit more, just a little bit more, he can taste his orgasm on his tongue, it’s tingling his taste buds-
He imagines someone catching him in this dirty act, walking into the door or calling him on the phone, and that’s all it takes to trigger release. He squeezes his cock on the upwards stroke just as ropes of cum start spilling out of it, hot and sticky on his abdomen as he thrusts through the high, milking his cock dry before he collapses against the bed. The cum pools in the lines of his abs, in the dip of his bellybutton and slide off the curve of his hips, but he can’t be too bothered to care. He can wash.
His brain, however, will never settle those fleeting thoughts.
web counter